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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25755649">it's over, now sleep tight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riparia/pseuds/Riparia'>Riparia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(in later chapters), BDSM, Bodyguard AU, Consent Issues, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, No MCD, Organized Crime, Sub Victor Nikiforov, VIKTOR DOESN'T DIE, Viktor is 16 in this and Yuuri is 27, Yuuri doesn't die either, guilty sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:28:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25755649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riparia/pseuds/Riparia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Yuuri was sent to kill Viktor, he didn't expect it to be so difficult. He thought himself used to killing, but for the first time in a while, he wishes he didn't take the job. Viktor shines bright and he doesn't want to be the one to put it out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it's over, now sleep tight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/panzipani/gifts">panzipani</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>THANK YOU SO MUCH, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/incandescentantelope">IA</a>, for helping me make this so much better and gifting me the words that make this feel complete. And for everything else you do for me.</p><p>Panzi, my love, thank you so much for inspiring this and encouraging me and being my support before I found more good friends to spend my time with. You helped me through so much and I don't think you're aware of that. You're very precious to me.</p><p>This fic is pretty old and would probably look different if I wrote it now, but I decided I like it enough to post. Future sex in this universe will be a bit different, probably. And there will be future sex. I have delicious plans.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The silver of Viktor's hair, a unique color Yuuri knows from photographs identifying his target, is masked by the lighting at the club. Purple and blue tones wash over modern furniture and smooth glass tables, but the way the lights fall over Viktor’s features is the most striking detail of the club. His hair looks like it’s glowing, a soft lilac instead of silver. It's arranged in a stylishly messy updo, leaving the ends of his hair to sway playfully whenever he tilts his head. He fits in here, with the thudding bass and a throng of admirers vying for his attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his age, Viktor doesn't seem out of place at all as he stands and interacts with people at the bar. There's no way Yuuri would have been able to act with this much confidence when he was sixteen. It's as if there's no issue with him being there, surrounded by loud music and alcohol. As if he didn't sneak and bribe his way in. Viktor glows, feeds on the attention and offers nothing in return. Without buying a single drink, he always has a couple of full glasses of fruity cocktails in front of him. Glasses that he's ignoring for the most part, clever enough to limit himself to an occasional slow sip and not be overwhelmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's regrettable. Drunk, he would have been an easier target. If he'd passed out, like Yuuri did once or twice as a foolish teenager new to alcohol, it would have saved him the suffering. Most of Yuuri's kills don't have that opportunity. It never drags for long, Yuuri is quick and efficient, but he rarely has the luxury of killing without first inflicting fear and pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of his victims deserve it, but Viktor... </span>
  <em>
    <span>He's so young.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Gentle bracelets glint when Viktor waves a dismissive hand at someone, looking away from them, and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>meeting Yuuri's eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's expression is impossible to make out, but he straightens, his posture looking much more alert. Swearing quietly, inaudible even to himself, Yuuri looks away and drops his face into his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor was not supposed to notice him yet. Yuuri didn't have enough time to decide how to approach and he doesn't have a plan of attack. Like an amateur idiot, he was too obvious about watching Viktor. A boy like him knows what being caught without his bodyguard means. This mistake will now cost Yuuri one of the rare nights Viktor escapes to be alone. It'll take ages until he risks it again! If Viktor remembers Yuuri in the future, his employers might have to find someone else to complete the job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates</span>
  </em>
  <span> failing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ways to salvage the situation flicker through Yuuri's mind, but none of the ideas makes sense. How had he ever convinced anyone that he's good at this? Is it his success sparring, or in target practice, or other situations that fail to simulate the actual job? Or maybe—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Buy me a drink!" is yelled almost into Yuuri's ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri jumps, turning towards whoever forced him away from his useless and dangerous train of thought. He finds himself facing a smirking Viktor, his chin tilted up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What—?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A drink," Viktor repeats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri blinks and glances at the untouched drinks Viktor abandoned on the table in the lounge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor sees where he's looking. "I don't like those."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks so comfortable. Is he counting on the safety of a crowded place? If so, he's overestimating it. There are dozens of ways Yuuri can still harm him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Get me a drink I'll like," Viktor demands again, grabbing Yuuri's arm and dragging him across the sprawling club to the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to keep up with Viktor is impossible, so Yuuri lets himself be pulled, choosing the path of least resistance until he can figure the situation out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Which drink?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You pick!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How does this make sense?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri gives up and orders something for Viktor. Something purple and shimmery, in a tall glass. It smells like grape candy. What's set in front of is identical to one of the drinks Viktor rejected. The ones he apparently dislikes. Before Yuuri can apologize and offer to replace it, Viktor pulls the glass closer and sips. He makes a show of moaning at the flavor and licking his lips, over the top and utterly ridiculous, made worse by the fact Yuuri can't actually hear it over the pulse of the music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What on earth is going on?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor chats at Yuuri, beaming, his body language open and lively. He’s warm and loose, like he’s had more to drink than Yuuri knows he has had. His flush looks ethereal in the purple lights. He isn't discouraged even by the driest of responses. None of the prattling has anything to do with their situation, and the string of Viktor's thoughts is impossible to follow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sixteen year old boy can't possibly be this calm about finding his would-be murderer. The way he's looking nonchalant and in control is impressive, but it's also baffling. The alcohol he'd tasted isn't nearly enough to explain this behavior. There has to be a reason behind it, a logical reason that makes sense. He might be stalling with this talk of nonsense. Maybe he wants to negotiate, to get Yuuri to drop his current contract. But no one with Viktor's family background would be so clueless that they would try to talk him into it. Stepping away now, leaving Viktor unharmed, would make Yuuri a target. He would be killed for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What could Viktor possibly want other than getting away from Yuuri and back to his family's protection?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I like this place," Viktor's voice filters through, cheerful and bright, "I came here first on my nineteenth birthday and it was lots of fun."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri freezes. It's the oddest lie, inserted into their one-sided conversation without any relevance. Three more years don't give him anything, no leverage, no power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns at Viktor. At the way he's standing, angled towards Yuuri, expectant and so excited it ruins what seems to be an attempt at a sultry look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pieces fall into place and form an image that squeezes Yuuri's heart painfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor is flirting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't know why Yuuri is here. He didn't realize that a man might be watching him intently because he's defenseless. A boy from a family like Viktor's should not be this naive. It's deeply wrong in a way that's impossible to articulate. But... It's also good. Useful. It means Yuuri has an opening, a chance to get Viktor alone. He only needs to play the part.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, subtly, Yuuri shifts, molds his body language to indicate interest with the angle of his body and the placement of his arms. He looks Viktor over, watching the boy preen under his attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A form-fitting strapless top clings to the boy's body, sitting comfortably under the sheer loose shirt that drapes off Viktor's shoulder. Both pieces of clothing are a similar pink color, and this made the strapless invisible distance, giving the illusion that Viktor is wearing nothing but his sheer oversized shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> wearing something underneath," Yuuri says, an unintentional-sounding admission that he's been watching and paying attention to Viktor's carefully put together look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor blinks for a moment, frowning, and lights up when he catches onto the implication. Viktor's slow self satisfied smile makes Yuuri want to run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm Yuuri," he says instead of bolting. If there's something awkward in his voice, Viktor doesn't seem to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Vitya."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason it doesn't feel right to call Viktor by a diminutive, but Yuuri smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flirting with Viktor is mindless work. He's so eager it takes no effort at all. Viktor's fingers twitch, so Yuuri takes his hand and it relaxes immediately in Yuuri's hold. The fingers curl around Yuuri's palm and Viktor's smile softens, looking pleased. Yuuri looks away. He regrets not buying himself a drink. It might have calmed him. But then again, maybe not. Maybe what's bothering him is more than just nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri jumps when he feels a warm weight against his arm, but Viktor stubbornly keeps leaning on him. Yuuri gently pushes him away without letting go of his hand. He's surprised when Viktor looks hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you done with your drink?" Yuuri asks awkwardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes!" Viktor instantly perks up, eyes bright and cheeks pink. "Are we going?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri tilts his head. "I thought... Dancing?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor looks at the dance floor and bites his lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's wrong?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I danced already," he says dismissively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So?" Yuuri says instead of calling him out on the lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor makes a face. "I'm impatient!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri pauses. Viktor clearly likes the little boost to his self esteem that comes with the attention, but Yuuri thought it would require some manipulating before Viktor actually leaves with him. Apparently not. He can pull Viktor outside right now, with no resistance at all. Yuuri winces at the knowledge that it isn’t just the alcohol that would make Viktor come so freely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's dance," Yuuri says instead. "No harm in a little dancing, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor pouts. Yuuri's heart squeezes again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't you want to show off?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor groans. "It's the shoes," he admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri looks down to see a pair of high heels. They're not the highest he'd seen, and the heel isn't as elegantly thin and pointy as Yuuri prefers for himself, but they're definitely still high heeled shoes. "You mean you can't dance in these?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You mean you can?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri laughs. "Maybe not after drinking, I don't think I've tried that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's eyes widen in an expression almost like awe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri swallows. "Okay, no dancing then. Do you want to leave?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes! Finally!" Viktor skips away from the bar and comes to hold onto Yuuri's arm, leaning on him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They make their way out through clusters of people and Yuuri catches at least one stare that could be admiring and could be jealous. His stomach churns and he tries to pull Viktor outside faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence when they're out makes his ears ring. After a few steps he can hear Viktor humming a song, giggly and out of tune. Everything feels surreal, wrong in a way his job never made him feel. Then again, he never had to kill a kid directly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the way to the car there are several opportunities to get the whole thing over with. He takes none of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking over at Viktor, he receives a bright smile and looks away immediately.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're distracting me from driving."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry," Viktor says and makes no effort to pretend he means it. Or to stop staring at Yuuri.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri sighs and tries to focus on the road and not glance at the giddy smile aimed at him. A kiosk at the side of the road seems to be still open, so Yuuri turns towards it and stops the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Here?" Viktor looks around. Surprised, but not upset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri manages a smile. "No, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> taking you to my place. I just wanted to see if they have any food you'd like. I don't have much to eat in the apartment."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh." Viktor blushes. "Whatever they have is fine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri nods. "Wait here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves the car and returns with a bottle of water and a sandwich, handing both to Viktor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Eat until we get there."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I might get the car dirty," Viktor says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just eat, Vitya. Don't worry about it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor hesitates for one more moment, but when Yuuri doesn't take it back he unwraps the sandwich and starts eating. Judging by the smile, Viktor probably thinks Yuuri is being kind. The truth is he'll have to get rid of the car anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri takes them to an apartment he doesn't mind losing, but one that's clean and used often enough that it won't be suspiciously empty. Not an emergency hideout. There's a closer option, and with the drive being this long there's a risk that Viktor will change his mind, but the far apartment is... It's just better. The smarter choice. It feels more right, and in a night that feels so wrong, he'll take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor doesn't change his mind. Not when Yuuri parks the car or takes him into the elevator. Not when Yuuri opens the door, when they walk inside or when Yuuri locks it behind them. Not even when Yuuri leads Viktor to the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor passes by Yuuri and steps into the room with an ease that leaves Yuuri staring at his back. The image of Viktor running away and escaping flickers through his mind with a strange sense of longing. It's confusing. Yuuri doesn't particularly enjoy that kind of hunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri steps close behind him and reaches to stroke the side of Viktor's neck. Viktor shudders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You really want this, don't you?" Yuuri says. He doesn't know what he wants the answer to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm here, aren't I?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nerves are audible in his voice. Finally a sign of tension and unease. Yuuri places his hands on Viktor's shoulders, his thumb stroking the skin left bare by the draping shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You'd be surprised how many people would turn back at this stage."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not going to."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Young and brave and excitable and stubborn. Viktor doesn't deserve this. He thinks Yuuri is offering kindness. He deserves kindness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can give Viktor one form of kindness. He can give Viktor what he wants, make it the best night of his life. The job still has to be done, but he can spare Viktor the fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor will sleep, happy and satisfied, and never wake up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri bends forward and kisses the nape of Viktor's neck, causing an adorable gasp. His fingers trace along the delicate gold necklace until they find the clasp and reach to undo it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not going to rob me, are you?" Viktor jokes, but the teasing tone it should carry isn't there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Would you care either way?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor takes a deep breath. "I suppose not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri slides the bracelets off Viktor's wrist and places the jewelry on top of a nearby dresser. He starts loosening the silvery hair from its surprisingly careful arrangement, pin by pin, until it all flows down his shoulders and back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor makes a questioning sound, but doesn't complain when Yuuri says nothing and runs his fingers through Viktor's hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Put your earrings with the rest of it," Yuuri says. "We don't want to ruin them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay." Viktor sounds a little overwhelmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri strokes Viktor's arms through the fabric of his shirt. "Do you want to take the clothes off yourself?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri kisses the top of Viktor's head and wraps his arms around his waist. He's so slender. Small. "Do you want me to do it?" Yuuri asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Obviously. Are you going to keep doubting me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor sounds so vulnerable it doesn't match the words at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Turn around."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor tenses a little and turns in Yuuri's arms, revealing a freckled face that holds none of the smug confidence he's shown Yuuri before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asking about Viktor's inexperience isn't likely to get him any truthful answers, so Yuuri doesn't do that. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Viktor's lips. When he pulls away Viktor whines and follows, trying to deepen it, and it's all the reassurance Yuuri needs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's outer shirt comes off first. It makes a mess of Viktor's hair and Yuuri stops to smooth it into place, perfectly aware that he's just about to peel the strapless shirt off Viktor's body and mess his hair again. Not to mention the tangles that will be created once they're in bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose," Viktor says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Doing what?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dragging it. Teasing me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri plays with the edge of Viktor's remaining shirt. "Really?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't think of any other explanation. You want me frustrated."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri smiles and pulls the shirt off him. "Do you want me to tease you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want anything if it involves you touching me already."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri pulls him in for a proper kiss. Viktor makes a surprised noise and moans with painful enthusiasm. His lips are soft and would easily be addictive if Yuuri could only push his ultimate objective from his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not the time for that yet. Right now, he needs to make Viktor happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's ass is round and soft when Yuuri's hand gropes it. It pulls Viktor firmly into his body. Viktor is hard and his chest is bare against Yuuri's clothes, probably feeling deliciously exposed. The thought is satisfying even without Viktor's skin on his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against Viktor's. A deep breath, a moment to step back and watch Viktor's expression, and Yuuri walks them to the bed, pulling Viktor along after him with a quiet "Come here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting on the bed, Yuuri pulls Viktor to stand in front of him. He doesn't hesitate as much when he hooks his fingers into Viktor's shorts and underwear together and pulls them down. Viktor steps out of the shorts, and what turns out to be a very nice lacy thong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Were you </span>
  <em>
    <span>planning</span>
  </em>
  <span> to have someone take you home?" Yuuri says when he sees them. "That was pretty."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You didn't even stop to look," Viktor says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're prettier without."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's no need to pretend he admires the sight of Viktor's naked body. A gorgeous expanse of smooth skin, shoulders covered in freckles, pretty nipples and a lovely cock. All of him, adorable. Yuuri is going to give him everything he could possibly want, slow and attentive.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And then...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want to take a shower?" Yuuri asks, startling Viktor. "Use the bathroom?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri tucks a bit of hair behind Viktor's ear and Viktor leans into his touch. "You had a long day out. You just ate. And you had... a purpose, coming here, didn't you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still frowning in confusion, Viktor says, "Yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Unless I read the signs wrong, a shower would be a good idea," Yuuri says, careful to keep a gentle smile on his face for Viktor's sake. He isn't very good with expressions, but it seemed to work on Viktor so far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not sure...?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want me to fuck you, Vitya?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shudder and a light blush. "Yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shower, then. There's everything there. Soaps and shampoo. Anything else you might need to clean up is in the second drawer. Do you know what you're doing?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor blinks and then turns a furious red. "I— Of course I do!" he says, offended, but he snatches his phone on the way to the bath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri sits on the edge of the bed, head bent and arms grasping his stomach. The unease hurts, and it's worse without the act to distract him, without Viktor to pretend for. The water is being turned on and off. He has no idea what Viktor will actually manage in terms of hygiene, but he's grateful for the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's stalling. It's too obvious to deny, even from himself. Avoidance is one of his worst tendencies. And he can't avoid this forever. There are only so many hours in a night and he has a job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri stands and goes to knock on the bathroom door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't come in!" Viktor shrieks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wasn't going to."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor quiets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Vitya? Are you doing okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes! Good. Yes, I'm fine. It's okay. Just... a little longer?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't sound fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Take your time, sweetheart."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a moment of silence and Viktor sounds significantly calmer when he says, "Thank you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri has never hated his job more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tea doesn't help ease his nausea and Yuuri returns to sit at the edge of the bed with his phone in hand. Everything online is at once too much to focus on and not enough to distract him. Organizing his image folders is useless. Yuuri debates smashing his phone on the floor when the bathroom door opens and he looks up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's face is the same deep red, but it doesn't look like the happy flush of arousal or like easy embarrassment. It looks humiliated, like he's about to cry. Yuuri is reminded again how young he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The phone is dropped somewhere on the bed, forgotten, as Viktor comes and stands in front of him, slouching. Yuuri trails fingers down Viktor's arms, captures his hands and holds them to his chest. He tries to think of something to say. Reassurance or encouragement don't come naturally to him, especially when the loudest voice in Yuuri's mind is a warning: </span>
  <em>
    <span>you shouldn't be feeling protective.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was sure you went to sleep by now." Viktor's smile is almost bitter. Maybe mocking. It's probably directed at himself. There's a twitch to his lips, a tremble, as he tries to keep the smile from slipping away.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can't be feeling protective.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"It should be okay," Viktor says. He looks like he wants to disappear. "The articles—" he cuts off, "I mean—! I..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The articles said it should be okay?" Yuuri gently tries to help. It shouldn't matter that Viktor looked up help online.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor shrinks and gulps. "I looked up several," he admits. "Did what they all said. Read some... conversations. On reddit and such. They said I'd know it's okay, when... if... I... The water..." Viktor shuts his eyes. "Please don't make me repeat that. I just didn't want it to be gross for you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri frowns. "Why didn't you just ask to do something different? We can do anything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't want something different," Viktor's face twists, looking chastised without having been scolded, and finishes quietly, "I want you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri has to close his eyes. He wants to hear that again, but even this once is more than he deserves. He kisses each of Viktor's fingers, very carefully not looking at his reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well," Yuuri pulls Viktor closer by his waist and runs both hands down his lower back. "Can't let all your hard work go to waste."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing Viktor's ass, Yuuri pulls him to his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor loses his balance and has to lean on Yuuri, supporting himself by holding onto Yuuri's shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri isn't broad. He has narrow shoulders and a small waist and he's lean rather than bulky, even now when he has muscle on him. A deceptive build that hides his strength and has people frequently underestimating him. With Viktor holding onto him, though, he feels strange. Like his strength is suddenly visible rather than hidden the way he usually prefers it. It's not a bad feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri kisses Viktor's chest. He wraps an arm around Viktor's waist, kissing up a trail to Viktor's neck as he pulls him down to sit in his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about your clothes?" Viktor's voice is shaky and Yuuri thinks the embarrassment is still there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't worry about them," he says into Viktor's neck and hates himself when Viktor shivers. He's so small that one arm is enough to circle all the way across his lower back and hold him securely to Yuuri's chest. "I want to focus on you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What, seriously?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is this not something you're used to?" Yuuri kisses softly under Viktor's ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I... No. It's not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The honesty is unexpected. No need for Yuuri to make assumptions, no slip up to give him away this time, just a response to a question that reveals more of his inexperience. Maybe he decided it doesn't matter, that Yuuri probably figured it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The unease sits hot and heavy in the pit of Yuuri's stomach when he says, "It's about time, then."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's arms wrap around Yuuri's shoulders when Yuuri lifts him up, turning around and laying him on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Move up, Vitya."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor moves back until his head rests on the pillow and Yuuri follows, settling over him carefully. He pauses only for a moment to admire Viktor's gorgeous, open expression. Then he leans in and kisses him deeply, relishing Viktor's moan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's body keeps arching under him in subtle wave-like movements, attempts to keep his entire body pressed up to Yuuri's.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's so hungry for closeness. Craving it. It's in the way he groans into Yuuri's kiss and in the way his hands twist into the back of Yuuri's shirt and in the way he pulls at the fabric, forcing more of Yuuri's weight to push him deeper into the mattress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He deserves better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly Yuuri can't breathe. He's forced to break the kiss and tries to hide his emotions by kissing Viktor's forehead and stroking the hair out of his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yuuri," Viktor pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmm?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor doesn't elaborate. His breathing is heavy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri rises to his knees above him. Viktor's cock looks heavy, hard and flushed. Yuuri's hand on the side of Viktor's neck caresses down his chest, feeling the warmth of the pink blush that spreads down there. The blush ends just shy of Viktor's nipples, going lower in the middle of his chest. Yuuri trails a finger down to the lowest point, watching the way Viktor twists in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's eyes close with a gasp when Yuuri touches his nipples. Vulnerable and exposed and so beautiful. Not someone Yuuri should be allowed to touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pinches Viktor's nipples, making him yelp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Y-Yuuri?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of answering, Yuuri bends to lick each nipple in teasing circles. He keeps his lower body high enough that it's impossible for Viktor's cock to rub on his clothes when Viktor arches under him. Hands grab his shirt, pulling on it as Viktor's body shakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's so responsive it's unbelievable. So Yuuri bites, making Viktor's whole body jump with a yell, and sits up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't like this," Viktor says, panting, and Yuuri thinks he's about to complain about the pain, but he continues, "I want to touch you too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The surprise  makes Yuuri pause. "Do you?" he says, mostly to give himself time to think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor seems to think he's being teased. "Yuuri," he whines, "you're not being fair."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adorable. Yuuri's hand clutches the sheets. He kisses Viktor's forehead again. "You can open my shirt if you want."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lighting up, Viktor starts working on Yuuri's shirt with unbearable excitement. Yuuri kisses him, distracting Viktor and slowing down the process of unbuttoning his shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the shirt is open, Viktor's soft hands touch his chest everywhere. Viktor turns his face, trying to break the kiss, and Yuuri bites his lower lip a bit too hard before letting him go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's eyes widen when he looks down and stares at Yuuri's chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh. Wow. Yuuri." Viktor's hands flutter across his chest. The touch is eager, exploratory and uncertain. "Yuuri, Yuuri, you're </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeous. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The muscles, I didn't—" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another kiss shuts him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri doesn't want to be admired. He doesn't want compliments. He doesn't want appreciative touches or arms holding onto him as an anchor. This is everything Yuuri is weak to, everything Yuuri craves, and getting it from Viktor... It feels like a lick of flame burning away Yuuri's skin wherever Viktor touches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri tears himself away from the kiss, ignoring Viktor's whimper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Turn over."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What—?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri moves to get lube from the bedside drawer, where it's sitting near a couple of toys. "Turn over. On your stomach."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trembling, Viktor obeys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri settles between Viktor's legs, pushing them apart a little to make space for himself. He places the lube on the bed without opening the bottle yet and runs both hands up and down Viktor's thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're tense. You need to be calm for this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't apologize, sweetheart." The endearment is bitter on Yuuri's tongue, but Viktor seems to like it. "Breathe."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor tries. Yuuri opens the bottle and coats a finger with lube.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Breathe slower," Yuuri instructs, holding one of Viktor's asscheeks to the side for better access and circling his hole with a lubed finger. It makes Viktor's body twitch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Yuuri's teasing Viktor seems to relax, but when a fingertip pushes inside he tenses back up immediately. Yuuri lets it slip out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry," Viktor says and returns to his breathing exercises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay." Yuuri adds more lube. "I know this is new to you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Try again?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri feels his jaw clench. He drops a kiss to Viktor's spine and pushes a finger inside again. Viktor's hole tenses and relaxes repeatedly and he groans. Yuuri pushes a little further in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yuuri?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmm?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It feels..." he starts and reconsiders. "Never mind."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You'll get used to it." Yuuri twists the finger a bit. "Your breathing is shallow again."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor tries to focus on his breathing, but focus isn't easy when Yuuri starts sliding his fingers in and out smoothly. Still, Viktor's whole body gradually melts into the mattress and Yuuri purposefully starts brushing against his prostate, soft and gentle. Careful. He's rewarded with agonizing little noises and moans that grow louder, striking Yuuri one after the other. Yuuri swallows past the burning lump stuck in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Make it the best night for Viktor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Exploratory licks and kisses above Viktor's ass find a couple of sensitive spots under the dimples of his lower back. Yuuri focuses on them, licking and grazing his teeth, and Viktor shakes, moaning louder. It's the reaction Yuuri was hoping for. He hates how much he loves it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri rises to take the lube again. When his finger pulls out Viktor tries to catch his breath, but Yuuri only adds lube and pushes back inside slowly. Viktor notices the difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yuuri, what—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Two fingers," Yuuri explains. "Nothing much. Easier for me to apply pressure where I want it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah," Viktor breathes out and Yuuri has no idea if it's a pleasured sigh or an acknowledgement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's clear Viktor loves every moment. His ass pushes back to meet Yuuri's fingers, his hands twist into the sheets, his moans are high and littered with praise and pleas for more. But when Viktor says "Thank you," Yuuri has to stop. Viktor tries protesting and Yuuri cuts him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't thank me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Viktor says frantically, panting for breath, "Okay, sorry, I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't apologize either. You couldn't have known."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay. I— I—" He groans. "Okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri waits a moment to let Viktor relax, kisses his buttcheek, then gets back to twisting and stroking and massaging inside him. Yuuri's mouth returns to the sensitive spots he found earlier and he starts sucking marks into Viktor's skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's moans are everything Yuuri could want to hear. So easy to read as he approaches his orgasm. His pleasure ignites something in Yuuri's chest, scorching, choking him, and Yuuri stops again. Viktor whines, his voice is high and desperate, so sweet Yuuri thinks he might throw up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't let me hear you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a whimper before Viktor obediently quiets down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The obedience makes it worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri keeps sucking hickeys into his ass and thighs, waiting for Viktor's body to relax again before he pushes his fingers back in. The only response is a rush of breath escaping Viktor's mouth as his body opens up for Yuuri.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What little noises Viktor can't suppress are muffled by the pillow and suddenly Yuuri wants him to be loud, to forget what Yuuri said. But even when Yuuri's touch turns relentless, he doesn't. He bites the pillow and holds it to his face, both hands gripping and pulling. His whole body shakes, but he doesn't make a sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri almost tells him to just let it go. But if Viktor listens to him, takes it as permission, it will be another show of obedience and Yuuri doesn't think he can stand it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri keeps his mouth busy sucking hickeys into Viktor's skin and massages Viktor's prostate with quick, unforgiving fingers. Forcing Viktor's body closer and closer to orgasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn't help. Viktor stays quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's torture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri's fingers stop moving inside him but this time Viktor isn't ready to stop, he wants more, rocks into Yuuri's hand. Yuuri pulls out entirely. Viktor raises his head with a cry, the only sound to break out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shhh, you're okay," Yuuri says, petting and stroking Viktor's back until the whimpers subside and Viktor calms down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's still shaking, holding onto the pillow with a grip that threatens to tear the fabric apart, but he stops thrashing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Better, sweetheart?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor doesn't answer with words. He pushes his butt up and looks back at Yuuri.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Look at you," Yuuri says and picks a new spot to nibble and suck another bruise, right under his butt. "You know you're gorgeous."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor moans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows he's gorgeous, and yet he's here with Yuuri. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be here with Yuuri. There were better looking men flirting with Viktor at the club. What kind of twisted god would have Viktor drawn to Yuuri, of all people?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He deserves better. And Yuuri deserves none of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something hot and painful flares in Yuuri's body. His fingers push back inside and he assaults Viktor's prostate, his teeth clamping on the spot he intended to mark. Viktor screams, longer and louder than before, but Yuuri doesn't ease up. His teeth dig into the mound of Viktor's ass, his hand holding the thrashing boy in place to keep him from escaping the feelings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon every muscle in Viktor's body tenses and Yuuri can feel him coming, his hole clenching and unclenching around Yuuri's fingers. His voice rises in a series of yells that grow louder and louder, each cut off by a heaving breath. His pleasure tears Yuuri apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor slumps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's over.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It can't be. No. I'm not ready.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor doesn't look like he'll be able to answer a question right now, but Yuuri says, "You said you want me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor nods. He can't possibly mean that. Or maybe he doesn't realize Yuuri means right now. Either way, Yuuri picks a condom and unzips his pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's uneven breathing is replaced with a keen when Yuuri enters him, holding himself over Viktor's body on extended arms, and begins a slow pace of rolling motions. Overstimulated to the point it likely hurts, this time no request or order from Yuuri would have the power to keep Viktor quiet. His voice is piercing. The only moments of calm are when he runs out of air and struggles to breathe in. There are strings of choked little cries until he somehow sucks in enough air for another drawn out shout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an attempt to soothe him, Yuuri leans forward and kisses his temple. It shouldn't work, but Viktor quiets down a little and manages a deep breath. Dropping an occasional kiss continues helping. It's unfair, the influence Yuuri seems to have on him. Undeserved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor starts to turn around lifting himself on shaky arms. Yuuri, thinking Viktor might try to push him away, grabs a handful of hair and shoves Viktor's head onto the pillow. A surprised sob escapes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If you want me to stop," Yuuri grunts, "say it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't stop," Viktor panics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What, then?"</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Hold me."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Two words, only two words. But he's begging, his tone as clear a plea as any Yuuri had ever heard. He thinks his heart might give out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Settling lower, right on top of Viktor, Yuuri sneaks an arm between the small body and the mattress to hold Viktor to his chest. Viktor gasps and shakes, his hand reaching back and clawing at Yuuri's shoulder as if to pull him even closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri wishes he could pretend this is just a normal partner on a normal night, but Viktor is anything but normal. Yuuri tucks his face into the slender neck, soaked with sweat, and picks up the pace. For a moment Viktor's voice rises louder, but when Yuuri starts marking his shoulder with hickeys it quiets down to whimpers that escape in time with Yuuri's thrusts. The words "hold me" are etched into Yuuri's mind and echo with every sound Viktor makes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a long time for Yuuri to come. It always does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, it's not long enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes screwed shut and both arms wrapped around Viktor to hold him tightly, Yuuri drives in harder when he comes. It makes Viktor spasm and yell out in a voice that's so hoarse, his throat would definitely hurt in...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri's mind clears. It's a heavy crash from the high of orgasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Numb, he pulls out of Viktor and untangles himself just enough to lean over and throw his condom in a wastebasket near the bed. When he turns, Viktor has already rolled over onto his back, his weak arms seeking Yuuri. They wrap around Yuuri's shoulders, clinging as Viktor pulls Yuuri on top of him and tucks his face into Yuuri's neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Vitya?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trembling arms try to hold him tighter, but they can't muster the strength. He hugs Viktor back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri kisses along shaking shoulders and up Viktor's neck until he reaches his cheek, moving the curtain of Viktor's hair aside with fingers that finally remember how to be gentle. Viktor, face red and tired and wet with tears, meets his eyes. And smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guilt shatters Yuuri's heart. He shifts to his side, letting Viktor use his arm as a pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was supposed to make it good for Viktor. It was supposed to be for Viktor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri swallows around a hot, burning lump in his throat. "I'm sorry," he says and feels foolish for it. He's about to kill the boy, isn't he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor closes his eyes and nuzzles into Yuuri's neck, his head tucked under Yuuri's chin, and  mumbles something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmm?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... Perfect," Viktor repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri freezes, speechless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even thirsty and filthy as he is, Viktor is exhausted enough that his breathing soon evens out. He falls asleep without a blanket, wrapping himself around Yuuri for warmth. Yuuri manages to extract the blanket from under them with minimal disruption of Viktor's sleep, but once they're covered Viktor clings to him more, not less. Even after everything, he's so trusting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple of weapons are stashed and hidden around the house. In a little while Viktor's sleep will become deep enough that Yuuri will be able to untangle from him and reach one without Viktor noticing a thing. He did what he wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor called the night 'perfect.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits, listening to Viktor's breathing, feeling Viktor's chest expanding rhythmically in his embrace. The ticking of the clock is the loudest sound in his ears. It will be the only sound left in the room once Yuuri finishes the job he was given.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't do it," he admits into the quiet night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's bright smiles, his excitement, his trust. The way he gave himself so fully to Yuuri, both confident and vulnerable. Young and stubborn and vibrant. It's a light Yuuri can't extinguish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears flood his eyes. He hugs Viktor tighter, placing a hand at the base of his head to hold him close and curl around him. Careful not to disrupt his sleep, Yuuri sobs quietly into the pillow. His chest aches and every hiccup scrapes his throat raw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time he falls asleep, his pillow is soaking wet with tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yuuri doesn't sleep deeply. He's too aware of Viktor and the impossibility of shifting around without moving him. Every muscle in his body aches from lack of movement when he gets up. Despite the pain and exhaustion from his restless night, he's energized by a decision. He extracts himself from Viktor to get up and find his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Six hours until he's supposed to meet his employers. It's lucky he slept so poorly, or he'd have kept on sleeping. Six hours isn't much, but enough that he should be able to be gentle about this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri takes a moment to look at Viktor's calm face and adjust the blanket around him before he goes to make them tea. He doesn't know how Viktor likes his, but he's bound to appreciate the warmth and the honey used to sweeten it. Especially after last night's ordeal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Placing the mug on the bedside table, Yuuri sits beside Viktor and kisses his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Vitya," he calls gently when Viktor doesn't stir.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mmm?" Viktor's face scrunches up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good morning, beautiful." This kind of praise is strange to throw around so casually, but Viktor enjoys it more than anyone Yuuri knows. "I need you to wake up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mmm." This time it's a protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri laughs softly. "Come on, get up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor pries one eye open and frowns at him. "Too far," he rasps and lifts a tired hand, his fingers making grabbing motions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's too far?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri is weak. So weak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Yuuri says, already joining him in bed, "but we have to get up soon."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor cuddles up to him happily. So trusting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while it seems like Viktor decided to go back to sleep. But then Yuuri hears, "It was the best I've ever felt."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah?" Yuuri says, because he can think of nothing else to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Last night. It was... so much."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You said 'perfect.'"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did I?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mhm. Right before you fell asleep."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mmm," Viktor says. "It was. Perfect."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri offers Viktor a sad smile and kisses his forehead. "I'm glad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor tilts his chin up and Yuuri gives him a soft, lingering kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Drink the tea I brought you before it gets cold. Then we can shower and I'll make breakfast."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tentatively, Viktor lets him go. "We can shower?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We both need to clean up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Together?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri pauses. "I didn't mean that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can we? Together?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment of hesitation passes before Yuuri realises he can't refuse. "Of course, sweetheart."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's tired smile is far too bright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor grunts in pain when he sits up to drink and Yuuri winces in sympathy. He wishes he had a tub in this apartment so he could let Viktor soak in a calming bath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moan when Viktor drinks the tea is not the show he gave Yuuri the day before at the club. He has a genuine smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is the tea okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is wonderful. I want to take some more on the way, when I leave."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri forces a smile. "You don't need to think about that right now. Finish it so we can shower. Then we'll eat and talk."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Talk?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor doesn't seem to like the idea of that. "What about?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"After breakfast, Vitya."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri does his best to treat Viktor with care throughout the morning. The shower is small, but neither of them is very large and they make it work. The way he looks at Yuuri's body is still too appreciative for comfort, but now he seems tense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your shampoo is awful," Viktor says when he takes the bottle to wash his hair. He's trying to sound casual, but Yuuri knows better. "And where's the conditioner? I couldn't find any yesterday."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think I ran out," Yuuri says, lathering his body with soap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor gives him a look of pure indignation. "And you don't make sure to have more? Do you even care about your hair? It has no right to be that soft with your kind of attitude!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri laughs. "I'll make sure to have more around."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And better quality."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nose scrunched up to show his distaste, Viktor washes his hair with the available shampoo. Before he reaches for the soap, Yuuri takes it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let me do that?" Yuuri says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor blinks and nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri runs his hands carefully all over Viktor's torso. After the way he treated Viktor last night, washing him clean feels like an apology. An insufficient one, but an apology nonetheless. It has the added benefit of stripping away Viktor's attempts to hide his emotions. When Yuuri wants to wash Viktor's butt, Viktor leans on him, chest to chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uncomfortable?" Yuuri asks when Viktor tucks his face into his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's fine," Viktor mumbles, and Yuuri realizes he's embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mix of sweat and lube that made Viktor's skin tacky is washed away. Viktor jolts when Yuuri's fingers touch his rim, and Yuuri is glad he took Viktor to an apartment he uses relatively often. He has the right sort of cream to soothe the skin after they leave the shower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Applying the cream is just as embarrassing for Viktor. Yuuri sits him in his lap and reaches around to spread it on the skin, allowing Viktor to cling and whimper into his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the second time, Viktor leaves the bathroom of Yuuri's apartment with his face bright red. This time, though, he's wearing Yuuri's clothes and seems to be lost in thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With another kiss to Viktor's forehead, Yuuri enters the kitchen, leaving Viktor to sit at the table with minimal squirming. Soreness isn't enough to distract him from whatever is bothering him. Yuuri places another mug of tea in front of him and goes to make breakfast, Viktor's eyes following him the entire time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glasses of water and plates full of food are set on the table and Yuuri sits in front of Viktor. Viktor glances at the food and then looks back up at Yuuri.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You said we'll have to talk?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes. You should eat before we do, though."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're acting like—" Viktor cuts off and bites his lip. He looks troubled. Conflicted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Like what?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I lied," Viktor says suddenly. "I'm not nineteen. I'm sixteen."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment Yuuri just sits there, surprised by the unprompted admission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I..." he starts, desperate to delay his own confession just a bit more. "Vitya, you really should eat."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But—" Viktor frowns. "You aren't angry?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I'm not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But I lied to you. I tricked you. For sex. And now you're acting like you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really like me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri sighs and sets his utensils down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I knew."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuuri gets up and takes his chair around the table to set it next to Viktor and face him better. Automatically Viktor turns so they're sitting face to face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was hoping to give you more time before we have to have this conversation," Yuuri looks into his eyes. "I know who you are. I know your full name and I know what your family does."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's eyes widen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know your parents' work is dangerous for you too, don't you?" Yuuri says as gently as he can. He wants to take Viktor's hand and offer some reassurance, but there's nothing he can do to soften the blow of what he's about to say. "You have bodyguards for a reason."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a moment. A long moment where Viktor just stares at Yuuri, uncomprehending. Then he starts trembling. He shakes his head, shrinking in his chair. Stubbornly refusing the reality Yuuri is laying out in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's why I was looking at you at the club," Yuuri goes on. "Your parents ignored some territorial boundaries after a threat was made that you will be hurt. You're the easier target in the family. You're known to escape your bodyguards and look for fun. We knew I could use that. I was trying to decide how to get you alone. I..." he pauses. "I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No." Viktor isn't rejecting the apology. He sounds like he's pleading with Yuuri to change reality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Yuuri repeats his weak apology.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor's arms wrap around himself as he slowly leans away from Yuuri.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not going to hurt you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dread in Viktor's eyes doesn't fade with that promise. "I just went with you," he says in a shaky voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was happy to." His voice pitches higher in a tearless sob that scrapes his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You had so many opportunities to—" Viktor says and his mouth is left open, unable to finish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Yuuri says again. "If I could let you go without telling you this, I would have. There's nothing I want more than to let this be a happy memory for you. But you're still in danger. I'm not going to kill you, but I'm not the only tool they have. Your parents need to know what I know. I have information for them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor just shakes his head again. Yuuri watches in silence as he curls up on top of the chair. Wanting to wrap him up in comfort is useless. Yuuri lost that ability the moment he admitted who he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The loss of Viktor's blind unearned trust is the worst sacrifice Yuuri has ever made. It's worth it, if he can keep Viktor's light burning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives Viktor all the time he can afford to give, then leans forward, forcing Viktor to meet his gaze. He has to make Viktor see that he means this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let me talk to your parents, Vitya. We need to make you safe."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lips quivering, Viktor stares at him for so long Yuuri worries that he'll refuse. But Viktor swallows a sob and nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither is able to finish the food. They leave as soon as Yuuri finishes packing up what he needs, including weapons that make Viktor flinch. Viktor's reaction has nothing to do with the weapons themselves. He's used to weapons. He probably knows how to use them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem is Yuuri.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the whole quiet ride, Viktor's hands keep trembling. He doesn't look at Yuuri once.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you had fun watching Yuuri ruin Viktor and cry about it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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